


Wish for the World

by KikiTwinTai2



Category: CLAMP - Works, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Tokyo Babylon, X -エックス- | X/1999
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Gen, Temporary Character Death, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24361417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KikiTwinTai2/pseuds/KikiTwinTai2
Summary: As the end of the Bet draws near, someone greater than either Subaru or Seishirou is determined to stop it. If he can change the future of his country, Kiku will whatever it takes, even if it means paying the price of his life.
Kudos: 6





	Wish for the World

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back to Hetalia and CLAMP, my two favourites. This is very canon-specific, so it probably won't make sense if you're fandom-blind to either one. I've always wanted to write this, and while I was looking through my WIPs I found it and dusted it off, and I'm pretty pleased with the result. Please let me know what you think, I have far more crossovers planned and I'm maybe thinking of writing more for it at some point. Enjoy!

Tokyo, 1984.

_With a bold and sudden calling_

_Western revolution’s starting_

_Let out hearts be open to it_

_Pacifist nation_

Kiku walks along the streets of Tokyo, listening to the noise of the city that never sleeps even at this time of night. He can’t sleep, and it comforts him to know that thousands of his people are still awake with him.

He turns away from the bright neon and flashing lights of bars and enters Ueno park. Sound is always quieter here, as though the sakura soaks up the noise and leaves tranquillity instead.

Perhaps it is the corpse that is said to lie under each one, drinking in the life that they will never get to live for themselves.

There is one tree in Ueno park much, much larger than the rest, standing on its own with branches wide as if warding off anything that comes close.

Two figures stand underneath it, one small, one tall. Kiku watches as the taller boy kneels down, taking the younger’s hands in his own.

Whatever he is saying is lost in a sudden rush of wind as the night-time breeze picks up, scattering petals and rustling the fabric of the boy’s traditional robes, but Kiku does not need to be close enough to hear them to know what they are saying.

He sees all of his people’s futures, even theirs. Under the _senbonzakura_ this night, events are being set into motion that will only come into play many years later, themselves only a precursor to something much bigger.

Walking along the path, he cannot help but look at the boys’ face. It is like looking into a mirror, seeing his own childish form, one he has not seen for centuries. The only difference is the boy’s startlingly green eyes, vibrant and clear and utterly unlike his own. The future Kiku sees for him is dark, and painful, and foreordained.

He couldn’t prevent it even if he wanted to. He is bound by laws even greater than that which the Dragons will dance to, and all he can do is watch, and live through the aftermath.

Even he doesn’t know, _cannot_ know who will win.

There is only one person in this world who can change the future, and luckily, he knows exactly where she lives.

He has a plan, and a very dangerous one. There is nothing more taboo than for his kind to interfere in the lives of their people, and he knows the price will be very, very steep. By doing this, he could very well be leading to the deaths of countless lives, whether or not he succeeds.

For the sake of the future he does not want to happen, he is willing to pay whatever price is necessary.

* * *

The witches house stands where it always has, nestled between high rise flats and glass-fronted offices, visible only to those who need it and appearing to all others as nothing more than an empty plot of land.

She greets him at the door, her twin servants standing on either side of her and clinging onto her robes.

She nods her head at him in greeting.

“ _Nihon_ ,” she says in her calm, slightly deep voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She doesn’t expect an answer, and Kiku steps inside, toeing off his shoes and following her silently into the main room. He accepts the tea that the girls set down for them, steam curling delicately upwards.

In the centre of his cup, a single stem points perfectly upright.

Yuuko sees it, her lip curling in amusement.

“Perhaps you wish shall be granted, then,” she says, sounding coolly amused.

Kiku looks back at her, dark eyes equally emotionless. “Perhaps.”

Yuuko folds herself onto the low couch, arranging her kimono around her and taking a slow drag from her pipe.

“I only have as much power as Clow saw fit to give me,” she starts, cutting straight to the point. “I can do nothing to stop you, or help you. You must take all responsibility for this, and the price will fall to you alone. This is beyond even my bounds of interference.”

Kiku nods. “I know.”

Yuuko stares at him through the winding trails of smoke.

“What is your wish?” she asks, sticking to the play she is bound to.

“I wish to stop the future that has been foreordained, for the sake of my people, in this and every other world.”

“A wish such as that would be impossible for me to grant,” Yuuko states. “For anyone other than you. Here is the price.

You will take the boy’s place. In eight years time, you will die at the hands of the _Sakurazukomori_ , one of your own people. In doing so, the events of the future may be changed. I cannot guarantee that it will be changed entirely. Things that were foreordained may yet still happen, and some things that were not may occur instead, worse than anything you or I or anyone else could foretell.

Do you understand? By doing this, you will doom yourself, nation of Japan.”

Kiku nods. “I accept the risk. I will pay the price of my nation, wagered against the future of every other world.”

“Very well. Then the wish is granted.”

Yuuko sighs deeply, tapping out her pipe.

“Now, the future is in the hands of hitsuzen. For their sakes, I hope they will make the right choice.”

Kiku remains impassive. “They will. They are mine, I can see the futures they will take.”

Yuko’s passive face belies her disbelief. “You do not need my help, then,” she says. “This was nothing more than a formality. You would have done it anyway.”

Kiku smiles, the sight almost startling as it spreads across his face. His normally blank eyes come alive with life and hope as he looks at her.

“I’m aware. Still, I wanted to,” he says. “I have to believe that the future has not yet been decided.”

Yuuko smiles in return. “And so, everything will surely be alright,” she finishes softly.

Kiku nods, satisfied.

They finish their tea in silence.

Yuko does not see him off when he rises to leave, bowing and thanking her in his perfectly polite manner.

Maru and Moro see him to the door, standing silently hand-in-hand as he slips his shoes on and turns to leave.

Yuuko lies in the room for a long time afterwards, filling the room with smoke and hoping that the power of a nation will be enough to save an infinite number of worlds.

* * *

Somewhere across Tokyo, Subaru returns to his sister with burning hands heightened by the newness of the gloves his grandmother has made him wear, and no memory at all of the man he has just made a Bet with.

Nine years will pass before they meet again. He will have a year to prove himself, before the Sakura bays for blood. A year is a long time to fall in love, and only time will tell if it’s enough.

The sakura is blooming, as it does every year. A young man walks through the falling petals along the streets of Tokyo, dressed in clothing from a bygone age. He draws comments from some, words spilling out from the doorways of bars and shops and drawing gazes from those whose business is conducted in darkness during the hours when most of his citizens are asleep.

He ignores them all. With each step he takes, he sees a thousand futures in his mind, and he hopes to prevent them all.

Nine years ago, he sat drinking tea and agreed to this. Even the Witch cannot foresee the outcome of this, or his future.

He cannot see hers, either, created being as she is. He sees the paths of every one of his people, but she belongs outside time, lost and rooted in a path that should not ever have existed at all.

He nears the park. A figure is waiting for him, as he knew they would be. He looks up as the petals began to scatter around him, the _Senbonzakura_ feeling his approach.

Kiku was reminded of the words of a song, warning against the tree.

_Thousands of cherry blossoms_

_Dwindling in the light_

_Though I can’t hear your voice_

_Keep what I say in mind_

_This bouquet that surrounds_

_Is iron poison, see_

_Looking down on us_ _from that big guillotine_

It would not be a guillotine that Kiku was meeting, but the effect was the same.

“You aren’t the one I was expecting.”

Seishirou’s voice is cool, toneless and yet amused all the same.

“No. I hope you will allow this, instead,” Kiku answers. “I am well qualified to take his place.”

“Of course you are,” the Sakurazukomori says. “I assume this, too, was foreseen.”

Kiku nods, standing with his hands loosely by his sides, breathing steady and deep, betraying none of his uncertainty.

Will it hurt to die by the hand of one of his people, or will it be like being laid to rest instead?

Of course, it can’t kill him permanently, but the Sakura will not care, not if it can get a taste of that immortal, inhuman blood. How many centuries of memories it must hold, the power it must have.

It will not have to feed for a long time after this, perhaps never again. Perhaps it will be too much, and lead to its own death. What a glorious end that would be, to die with the taste of Japan itself on its roots.

Seishirou is oblivious to the thoughts of the tree, instead wholly focussed on studying his replacement prey.

He looks so like Subaru, a youthful appearance overlaid with an agelessly old soul.

The eyes, though, those are what give him away. Subaru’s eyes are a vivid, brilliant green, full of life and kindness and a love that will never go away, even with all he has seen.

This man’s eyes are dark, and quiet. Seishirou sees in them a past that is even darker than his own, crimes committed that make even his most gruesome seem little more than a child’s petty squabble in a sandbox.

Seishirou smiles. This man is very interesting, indeed.

“What name do I call you by, then?” he asks, pleasantly as if they were having tea.

The man blinks, once, slowly and measured. Seishirou is reminded of a stone falling into a deep pool, making no sound and leaving no ripples.

“My name is Kiku. If I had a family surname, it would be Honda.”

Ah, of course, the most common surname. Just another child of Japan, then. No matter. One substitute is much the same as another. His victims have been too countless for him to remember each of their names, and this is, _should be_ , no different.

It is, though.

For a reason he cannot fathom, this man is different, and the lack of knowledge is irritating. Where Subaru is surrounded with power and shines with an inner light that Seishirou can never truly break, the man in front of him is dark, his power clearly coming from something that Seishirou cannot determine.

The thoughtless idea flashes through his mind of what it might be like to go Within this strange man, but something tells him that it would be too dangerous to even try.

Still, he is not used to being powerless, and if he were a different man, it would unnerve him. His resolve is too solid to melt, however.

“Well, then, Kiku, shall we proceed?”

If Kiku is offended by the lack of honorifics, he says nothing, merely standing a little straighter as he nods in affirmation.

His _onmyouji_ outfit, a perfect replica of Subaru’s, fits his body perfectly in a way that not even Hokuto would ever be able to do, try as she might to cast herself as her brother.

Seishirou’s eyes seem to glint in the reflected light. In contrast, Kiku’s eyes are flat, absorbing the light until it seems Seishirou could drown in it.

He draws his hand back, fingers locking into points. Kiku takes a measured step back, preparing himself.

Seishirou’s hand stabs forward. Kiku barely even gasps as the fingers slide through him, his body jerking backwards even as the hand emerges red-stained from between his shoulder blades.

He lets himself fall backwards onto the grass, the beads around his neck flying in a graceful arc above his head even as his eyes widen in pain.

Seishirou catches him, withdrawing his hand and wrapping an arm around the man as he lies in the rapidly spreading pool of blood.

“If I may ask, why you?” he allows himself to wonder. “Do you expect that this will change anything? _Who are you?_ ”

He sounds merely curious, still using the same tone as he would to order a slice of cake in a restaurant.

Kiku smiles, even as his blood makes a lake around him.

“Because I care for you. All of you, and I cannot let the future you have foreseen come to pass. I am Kiku Honda, and I am Japan.”

Seishirou raises one eyebrow in the barest expression of confusion.

Kiku continues, smiling despite the pain of his punctured heart. It will heal soon, but he is content to let his blood flow and feed the Sakura for now.

“I am the living personification of this country,” he explains calmly. “You cannot kill me, you nor anyone else. Only one of my own kind has that power, and even the Sakurazukamori cannot come close to it. ”

Seishirou allows his façade to slip, voice questioning.

“Then, if I may ask, why take his place? Do you think it would make a difference?” he asks. “The boy or his sister, one of them was supposed to die. All you have done is prolong it. A few more weeks, a month, even a year or two. What does more time give, if it will only be taken from them in the end? Their future was foreordained long ago, as was mine. Who are you to deny the wheel of fate?”

Kiku’s mouth curves in a smile. For the first time, Seishirou looks into his eyes, and his grip on the man’s body tightens.

“Who are you to change fate?” he demands. “If what you say is true, then you have achieved nothing. Destiny _has_ been foreordained. Five years from now, Kamui will make a choice and the fate of the world will rest in his hands. What other fate is there?”

Kiku shakes his head. “Go and find the witch,” he says, coughing slightly and feeling blood begin to streak the side of his mouth.

“The future _you_ see has been foretold. But that is only one of many. What happens after this, even I don’t know.”

It is becoming difficult to keep his eyes open, so he allows them to fall shut, pools boarded over with dark lashes against his cheeks.

Seishirou watching Kiku’s face pale, what colour there was to begin with leaching out with his blood. His expression shows no pain, but instead looks strangely peaceful, almost contented, triumphant even.

Seishirou’s eyes narrow. “One of them will still die,” he says almost to himself. He sounds determined, stating it as though he needs convincing.

“Perhaps.” The word is a breath, but it’s all he needs to hear.

“Then why do this at all? I made a bet with Subaru. Even his sister’s death would not have been enough to stop it, so why would you? What do you care if any of your people die?”

Kiku’s eyes open. With the last of his strength, he raises an arm to lay his hand against Seishirou’s cheek, smearing blood across it.

“ _Because_ you are mine, Seishirou Sakurazuku,” he says, with more strength than someone with a hole through their chest ought to have.

“You deserve the best future I can give you, and I must believe for my own sake that it can be changed. When you have lived as long as I have, you may yet see that, too. Now go, find Subaru and be with him. Forget the Bet you made with him. You and I both know that he has won it, after all. I have paid the price. Now it is up to you. I will meet you again, whether as a Dragon of Heaven or of Earth.

Go and find the Witch, and tell her that everything will surely be alright.”

Seishirou’s face showed his disbelief, but he rose anyway, wiping his bloody hand on a handkerchief and letting it flutter to the ground callously.

A smile rose to Kiku’s face, and Seishirou watched as his eyes closed for the last time, body stilling as he breathed out.

The wind rose, the Sakura’s branches reaching out impossibly to cover his body. When they withdrew, there was a predictable emptiness where he had lain, even the bloodstains on the grass miraculously disappeared.

Seishirou did not question it. Clearly, there were far greater powers than his own involved here, and he wasn’t going to question it.

He supposed he had better find out who this Witch was. Whoever she was, she seemed very interesting. Perhaps there was a wish or two of his own she could grant, if the future did indeed turn out differently.

He set off into the streets of Tokyo, smiling. First, he was going to pay a visit to his cute Subaru.

If the future had yet to be decided, then he was going to have some fun.

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics are from Lizz Robinett's english cover of Senbonzakura, which can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cdYKj2PvnZE). (Man, how does anyone use HTML instead of rtf, this took me more than an hour to learn and that was with the help page open the whole time. Hats off to anyone who writes entire fics in it.)  
>  As anyone familiar with the song knows, the original Miku song is very fast-paced, and Lizz's slowed-down version changes it from an optimistic, almost aggressive tone to something sadder, reflective and kind of nostalgic, and the first time I heard it I thought it sounded perfect for Kiku to be singing. All her covers are incredible, so I'd recommended checking out her channel, she does everything from Vocaloid and anime to games to her own original songs. Her version of Unravel especially is the best I've ever heard.


End file.
